Everyone's King
by topazchild
Summary: Arthur is thrown on his own resources when he finds himself alone, hurt, and on the run.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fan fiction. Morgana is good, and King Cenred and Morgause are alive. Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.**

Everyone's King

"Your highness, may I present Prince Edmund of Devonshire."

King Uther chuckled, but he did not look up from the map he was studying with several of his advisors. Gaius and Merlin stood attendance nearby. "You hardly have to have yourself announced," Uther said. "You've been staying with us for a week now."

Beside the king, Lady Morgana dropped her goblet. It rolled on the floor, spattering her long emerald-green gown with wine. It was the only sound in a room that had gone eerily silent. Uther glanced at her, then across the room at their newly announced guest. He was a tall, slender man in his late twenties with light brown hair and somber gray eyes. There was a look about him of a scholar. Uther had never seen the man before.

"What game is this?" Uther demanded, confused, with the stirrings of anger. "Edmund is hunting in the woods with my son."

"No game, your highness. I carry letters from my father and a trade proposal." The prince, though faintly alarmed, spoke calmly. A courtier appeared at his side at a signal from Uther. One of the young man's servants pulled the papers from a bag. Edmund took them and handed them to the waiting courtier. "Wait." He pulled a gold ring from his finger. "Perhaps you recognize the royal crest of my family."

Uther studied the ring for only a moment before bellowing to a guard, "Get Sir Leon here immediately! Get him now, dammit!"

A few moments later, Sir Leon hurriedly entered the room accompanied by Percival and Elyan. He cast a sideways glance at Merlin and saw the dismayed look on the young man's face.

"Sire."

The king glared furiously at the three men. "Which of the knights of Camelot have accompanied my son today?"

There was an awkward pause. "None of them, your highness," replied Sir Leon, a bit nervously. "Arthur is in the company of Prince Edmund and four of his men. The prince is quite safe."

Uther gave himself a moment. It did not help. Rage set his blood to boiling. "Let me introduce you to someone," he said, through gritted teeth. He gestured toward their visitor. "This is Prince Edmund of Devonshire."

Sir Leon looked confusedly at Edmund then back to Uther. "I'm sorry, sire, I'm not understanding. Who are the men who rode out with the prince?"

Gaius had moved closer to the king. "That would seem to be the question."

The Previous Evening

Merlin pulled back the heavy fur coverlet on Arthur's bed and fluffed the pillows. Arthur strode into the room. "Merlin, I will be spending the day tomorrow hunting with Prince Edmund."

"Great! I'll throw a few things together for our saddlebags."

"You won't be coming, Merlin. This should give you plenty of time to clean my room. Thoroughly. I want the tapestry on the wall and the rugs taken out and beaten."

"That can wait. I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," Arthur said, impatiently. "You have trouble grasping a simple concept: I give the orders. You take them."

"I have to come," Merlin pleaded. "To keep you safe."

Arthur gave a humorless laugh. "Now I know why I keep you around. For comic relief." Merlin looks a little hurt.

"I have been taught to defend myself," Arthur continued, "since I was old enough to lift a sword. You know that." Arthur softened a bit. "Besides I'll be surrounded by fully armed men. What could go wrong?"

A little silence fell after the prince's last words. Merlin got a creeped-out feeling. He stared reproachfully at the royal heir's profile then noticed Arthur struggling to remove his chain mail. Without a word he moved to help him.

A half hour later, Merlin was back with Gaius. Merlin paced back and forth venting his frustration while the old physician mashed up some herbs and puttered with some bottles.

"He wants his rugs dusted! Like that can't wait!" Merlin continued pacing. He badly wanted to throw something.

"Don't you think you're overreacting a bit, Merlin?" Gaius inquired, calmly.

"No! I have a bad feeling about tomorrow. A premonition."

Gaius turned around and looked at him. "Anything specific?"

"No. Just a feeling that Arthur's in danger. A bad feeling."

The old physician thought for a moment. "There are other ways to protect him."

Merlin stopped pacing restlessly around the room and turned and looked at Gaius through narrowed eyes.

The Following Morning

Merlin entered the prince's chambers with a breakfast tray which he set down before he opened the windows and pulled back the curtains around Arthur's bed.

"It is time to get up, your highness," Merlin said stiffly in a colorless voice.

Arthur turned loose of the pillow he was clutching and sat up and stared at Merlin. "Who are you, and what have you done with Merlin?"

"I just feel I was a bit out of line yesterday." Merlin spoke contritely, but Arthur regarded him suspiciously.

"You're mad, aren't you?"

"No, no, of course not." Merlin carried the tray over to the table and started setting up breakfast.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur had washed up, dressed, and eaten. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched idly as Merlin cleared the dishes from the table.

"I miss your usual mindless prattle, Merlin." The servant turned guileless blue eyes toward him. Arthur threw a small pillow at him which hit his shoulder without any real force.

"That didn't hurt." Merlin smiled, thawing a bit.

"It wasn't supposed to." Arthur hopped off the bed and turned to leave.

"Wait." Merlin reached in the pocket of his jacket. "I have something for you to take with you." He pulled out a small bag on a cord and handed it to the prince.

Arthur took it curiously. "What is it?"

"It's an amulet. It'll keep you safe. You wear it around your neck."

"I'm a warrior, Merlin. I don't need protecting."

"Humor me, sire."

Arthur looked at him. "All right."

"Promise?"

"Yes!" Arthur put the cord around his neck, tucked it inside his shirt, and hurried from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

Arthur studied the man riding a little ahead of him with increasing puzzlement. The farther they had ridden from Camelot, the more loutish and vulgar became his behavior. The man Arthur knew as Prince Edmund went from a boisterous good fellow to a loud, obnoxious drunk. He and his four companions were drinking heavily and belching loudly as they careened noisily through the forest on horseback. Arthur had had enough but some little pocket of caution, not normally a quality that the prince possessed in abundance, told him that he stood in deadly peril.

Too late he realized his mistake in leaving the knights of Camelot behind. And Merlin... Merlin had begged to come. Arthur's hand went up to touch the amulet around his neck. He wished desperately for Merlin's company. He realized how much he valued the dark-haired young man's friendship. Not usually one to second-guess himself, Arthur reflected bitterly on his arrogance and rashness and hoped he lived to profit from it.

Knowing himself to be badly outnumbered, Arthur set his mind to reducing the odds. He studied the situation. Three men rode in front of him and two behind. Was it by accident or design? Now that he was paying closer attention, he could see the sinister implications. How drunk were these men? Could they be only pretending to be drunk? Arthur thought not. They had been drinking heavily since morning. A point in his favor. Arthur had been drinking only water. He studied the horses. His he knew to be fast. The other five horses were not from the Camelot stables. He studied the three animals he could see. They looked to be good horses but tired. Casually he turned in his saddle to eye the two men and their mounts behind him. One of the men returned his look, a brutish leer on his face. Okay, he had had enough. Arthur, not patient at the best of times, had reached his limit.

"Gaius?" Lancelot entered the room. He saw Merlin with a large bowl. "I left Gwaine with the horses. The others have gone ahead."

Gaius made a shushing motion with his hand and waved Lancelot further into the room. "Merlin needs to concentrate," Gaius whispered. The knight nodded his understanding and walked quietly over to Merlin and his scrying bowl while Gaius stood guard at the door.

Merlin spoke a few words in the old language. The water rippled and stirred and Lancelot could see trees and horses and Arthur fighting for his life.

Arthur had taken advantage of the element of surprise and pulled one of the drunken riders off his horse. The man had fallen heavily with an oath. The prince had then plunged his tired horse in the midst of the other riders, his drawn sword in his hand. The imposter, Rufus, swearing loudly, yelled to his men, "Take him alive if you can! If not, then kill him! King Cenred and Morgause will pay up either way."

Arthur, cornered with no chance of help, was a dangerous man. He fought like seven devils, his sword a blur of motion. A second man fell from his horse, blood spurting from his neck.

One rider, suddenly cautious, rode out of range of Arthur's lethal sword. The two remaining riders rushed him from either side. Regrettably, the prince had not worn his armor this day. He felt a sharp pain in his side and blood soaking his clothes. His horse panicked, rearing and sidestepping wildly. Fighting a wave of dizziness, Arthur summoned the last reserves of his strength and, kicking his horse, plunged through the men and rode into the forest at a dead run.

Several hours later, weakened from blood loss and parched with thirst, the golden-haired young man slipped from his horse and would have fallen if the horse had not been there. He leaned weakly against the animal, burying his face in its mane.

"Merlin," he said in a low raspy voice, "I'm so thirsty." He put his hand up and fumbled for the little bag of crystals that Merlin had given him. He deeply regretted forcing Merlin to stay at the castle. "Please find me." He reached for the reins and pulled them down from the pommel. Walking slowly, he stumbled down an overgrown trail deeper into the woods, his horse occasionally nudging him in the back.

A half hour later, after several failed attempts to remount his horse, Arthur was still stumbling along, held up by sheer will and the stubbornness (pigheadedness?) that Merlin found so annoying. The horse, thirsty also, had pushed ahead of him, Arthur having long since dropped the reins. Scenting water, the horse jerked up his head and nickered. Kicking up his heels, he plunged headlong down the trail, the prince lurching after.

Arthur fell awkwardly onto his hands and knees beside the bubbling stream, bruising and cutting his hands on the small rocks. He drank thirstily beside the horse. Then weak and drowsy, he lay beside the stream, his right hand and arm dangling in the water. Oddly comforted by the motion of the flowing water, Arthur closed his eyes and slept.

"Looks like we've lost him." Battered and bruised, the four surviving brigands paused to rest their horses.

"Nay," replied Rufus, "You saw how I cut him. He can't have made it much further, and there's no one to help him."

"If he's still alive, he'll have to rest his horse." The others all nodded in agreement.

"We'll collect our bounty from Morgause and Cenred yet." Rufus reached for his flask of ale and shook it. It was empty. He swore heavily.

Elsewhere Sir Leon, accompanied by Percival, Elyan, and five other men flew through the forest. They were heavily armed and spoiling for a fight.

"Halt!" Sir Leon yelled. His men had nearly ridden past a sprawled body.

Both Percival and Elyan jumped from their horses. The man's body was lying on its side, a pool of dried blood beneath it. Percival's booted foot kicked him over on his back. The man's matted hair and shirt were black with blood.

Elyan studied the man's face. "He's one of them."

"Offhand, I would say Arthur has been this way," said Sir Leon. Several of the men laughed grimly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews and all the story alerts. I love feedback.**

Chapter 3

At first, it was only two of the forest folk. A weary young woman, a small child clinging to her skirts, had carried a large jug down to the stream to fill. She stopped short when she saw the young man lying partly in the water. She saw blood on his clothing and supposed he was dead. With a small scream, she dropped the jug and, scooping up the child, she ran back where she came from.

The next to come was the dwarf, Grettir, gatekeeper to the Perilous Lands. He knelt by the young man's side and held his hand flat a few inches above the amulet. He could feel magic fairly pulsing from the little bag.

"I can tell the future, child of Ygraine. The amulet that you wear summons powerful help." He stood up, turned and vanished into the forest.

A few moments later, other people emerged from the woods. They gathered around Arthur's body.

"He's breathing. He's not dead." They watched his chest rise and fall for a few moments. Someone knelt to check his wrist. "Aye, he lives."

An old woman broke through the throng of people. She stared at him, recognition in her eyes. "It's him. It's the prince. I've seen him at the castle."

A murmur went through the small crowd. "Arthur. It's Arthur. The king's son."

"Let him die," someone said. There was much arguing back and forth. "It'll be a judgment on the king. Let Uther suffer this time."

"The boy is the crown prince. He is not to be harmed. Who'll rule in his stead?"

"I knew his mother. Beautiful she was."

"What happened to her?" asked another.

"She died after the babe was born. A life for a life. The prince was born of magic." A gasp went 'round the crowd.

Suddenly at the back of the crowd, three men approached. They were dressed in long gray robes, hoods pulled up around their heads. The crowd parted respectfully for them. One of the men threw back his hood and knelt beside the prince. He touched Arthur's face gently, then he examined the wound in his side. He picked up each of Arthur's hands and turned them palm side up, seeing the bruises and the scratches. After a few moments he spoke.

"Leave us."

The crowd murmured and grumbled, then dispersed, slowly at first, a few people looking back over their shoulders.

The first druid spoke to his two companions. "Help me pull him from the water. Gently!" he snapped as the prince was roughly pulled further onto the bank. "His life force hovers precariously between this world and the next." He placed his hand over the wound and murmured a healing spell in the old language.

The three men watched as the wound in his side slowly healed. Color returned to Arthur's cheeks and warmth to his skin. One of his hands moved across the ground, his fingers plucking at the grass. A moan broke from his lips.

One of the men, spying the amulet around Arthur's neck, inquired incredulously, "The son of Uther Pendragon wears magic around his neck?"

The first druid unfastened the cord and pulled the little bag from his neck. He opened it and shook out the crystals onto his palm.

"Emyrs." A small half-smile appeared on his face. He replaced the crystals and curled Arthur's fingers around the little bag.

The prince opened cerulean blue eyes and rolled onto his side with a groan. He pushed weakly up onto an elbow then sat up. Flowers fell from his chest, dropped there earlier by the children now hiding among the trees. He studied the three druids then inspected his side.

"You healed me? With magic?"

The men had retreated a few steps away and stood regarding him gravely. "You were dying."

"Thank you." Arthur could feel the power and strength surging through his limbs, returning to his body. He looked down at the little bag of crystals in his hand. "My friend gave me these," he said to no one in particular.

"A better friend than you know," replied the druid. "Stay here. People come for you."

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The brigands' first hint of trouble was a faint drum of hoof beats. Moments later, the knights of Camelot burst into view, their horses plunging and rearing with nervous energy. Sir Leon pulled his horse up short. His eyes sought out Rufus.

"Who are you, and where is Prince Arthur?" Sir Leon got right to the point.

"How dare you question me in this manner," Rufus bluffed, with all the arrogance he could summon. "I am Prince Edmund of Devonshire and a honored guest of King Uther."

Sir Leon let that slide for the moment. His men were directing murderous looks at the four brigands, and Sir Leon knew at the slightest signal from him would fall on them with a vengeance.

"You left Camelot this morning with the prince. Where is he now?"

Rufus was desperately in need of another drink, but he recognized danger when he saw it. "We were set upon by bandits, and the prince and one of my men were separated from us in the confusion. We look for them now." His three companions nodded in mute agreement.

It wasn't a bad lie on the spur of the moment, Leon thought. "Wrong answer," he said. "Your other man lies dead behind us, and the real Prince Edmund is newly arrived at the castle."

Percival drew his sword, Sir Leon made no move to stop him, and the fight was on.

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Arthur stood ankle-deep in grass and mingled wildflowers in a small clearing in the woods. Rays of sunlight fell upon him, turning his blonde hair golden and creating an otherworldly aura that shimmered in the air about him. The knights of Camelot pulled their horses up short upon sight of him. He looked like the fulfillment of some ancient prophecy. Several of the men had to stop themselves from sliding off their horses and falling to their knees. Any one of them would have died for him.

Plunging through the middle of the knights came Merlin with Gwaine and Lancelot on either flank.

"Arthur!" Merlin laughed in relief. He slid hastily from his saddle and ran to where the prince was standing. "You're injured." Merlin plucked at Arthur's shirt still covered with stains. Gwaine and Lance walked over to join him.

"No, I'm all right." One of Merlin's arms circled Arthur in half a hug. Arthur did not return the gesture but neither did he pull away. Gwaine and Lancelot both clapped his shoulders.

"Well-met, my friend," said Lance.

"This isn't your blood?" Merlin was persistent.

"No. Yes. We're not discussing this now." Arthur got a mulish expression on his face. The knights exchanged looks.

"I'm hungry," Arthur demanded. "No, I'm starved."

"Of course, Sire," Merlin replied, laughing as he walked back to his horse and pulled out bread and venison for the prince. Everything would be all right.

Arthur was alive.

The End


End file.
